Perhaps it is just the ravages of living in this present timeline, but this summer it seems as though all of us are just ready for some good-hearted, brightly-lit escapism (see: Superman). The Fantastic Four: First Steps, the latest installment in the sprawling 20-year epic that is Disney’s Marvel Cinematic Universe, couldn’t be timelier. There have been a *few* previous attempts to bring Marvel’s “first family” to the big screen with varyingly debatable levels of quality. It puts a big ol’ nerdy smile on my face to declare Hollywood finally got it just right. Chef’s kiss. At first you don’t succeed, try again … try again … try again.
Director Matt Shakman, working from a kitchen’s sink script (seriously, there are like 83 writers on this thing … which normally is a huge red flag), delivers a tightly paced, deeply immersive experience. In order to offer a self-contained fresh start (don’t worry, you don’t need to have watch 412 previous films and tv episodes to know what’s going on), the film is set on a “parallel earth” (because that’s now a thing) where mid-century futurist chic rules the day. From an art/production design perspective, the film is sumptuous. Saarinen wept.
I think most of us take for granted the degree of difficulty to pull off a convincing world, with its own unique visual language, that feels both familiar and exotic at the same time (see: Star Wars, Black Panther, Lord of the Rings). This film deserves all the Oscars for this design feat. Eye candy galore. And the distinctive look is aided and abetted by composer Michael Giacchino’s evocative, percolating score – one of his best yet!
Blessedly, the creative spark doesn’t end there. As fanciful as the setting appears, the movie is grounded in its own humanity, but not lazily gritty and dark and heavy (sorry, not sorry, Zack Snyder). The stakes are real and impactful – our intrepid heroes do have to save humanity from a globe-eating giant named Galactus (because it is a summer blockbuster after all), but the saving isn’t just for saving’s sake. Shakman leans into the longstanding familial dynamic among team leader Reed Richards (an arch, brilliant, befuddled, debonair Pedro Pascal), his spouse Sue Storm (a luminous, stately Vanessa Kirby), her brother Johnny Storm (a wry, spritely, slightly haunted Joseph Quinn), and honorary uncle Ben Grimm (a warm, big-hearted, anguished Ebon Moss-Bachrach). We care about the fate of the world because we care about them. Their joys and fears are our joys and fears – this is as much a dramedy about the ties that bind as it is about people who stretch and flame on and turn invisible and clobber, while rocking some very natty Spandex couture.
(Say this about producer Kevin Feige and the Marvel machine: they know how to cast a film.)
Deftly, the film skips through any origin-retelling and jumps four years into our heroes’ nascent world-saving careers. The film employs an Ed Sullivan-style chat show as a narrative device to catch up anyone who somehow doesn’t already know that our quartet got bombarded by “cosmic rays” on a space voyage and thereby developed their strange and wondrous abilities. We get a greatest hits overview of all their victories, vanquishing no end of fever dream silver age villains (Red Ghost! The Wizard! Giganto! Mole Man!), and we are quickly apprised of how beloved The Fantastic Four have become, bringing world peace and utopia, with their good-natured wisdom and heroics. (As an aside, it’s also interesting in this present moment that both Fantastic Four and Superman depict worlds where noble heroes save us from our darker impulses and from our free-wheeling animosity for “the other.”)
Into this blissful global existence, a shiny metallic herald arrives on a boogie board. We’ve seen the Silver Surfer onscreen before, but Julia Garner brings a world-weary gravitas we haven’t yet observed in such a tragically drawn character (a plot point which I won’t spoil here). She ominously advises this Jetsons-esque planet’s inhabitants to “get their affairs in order” because the big, purple Cuisinart named Galactus (a frighteningly detached and unrelenting Ralph Ineson) is on his way to gobble them up.
As a galactic hail Mary, the Four pursue the Surfer back to Galactus’ home base to, well, attempt to talk him out of it. That … doesn’t go well, and he demands Sue’s unborn child in trade for potentially sparing Earth. Understandably, Reed and Sue are, like, “Nope!” and high tail it back home to divine a different hail Mary altogether. Beyond that, I’ll let you see for yourself how the plot resolves itself, but as “comic book-y” as it all sounds, the wrap up is believable, accessible, and affirming.
Scene stealer alert! Paul Walker Hauser has what amounts to a glorified cameo as another longstanding Marvel villain Mole Man (yes, you read that correctly), and he is utterly brilliant, lovable, infuriating, and iconic in his screen time. We can only hope that there is an alternate Hollwood in the space/time continuum where the filmmakers were brave and silly enough to dump Galactus and focus the entire film on Mole Man’s love/hate relationship with the Fantastic Four. Hauser’s scenes crackle with unpredictability and comic sparkle – and not in what has become that clichéd Marvel “bro humor” way, but the kind of elegant comedy that spins from altogether relatable jealousy and misdirected tension. “Johnny, don’t be mad. I didn’t dress you.” – a quip from Hauser that is far funnier onscreen than it reads here, both from the context of the scene and from Hauser’s delivery, dripping with pointed sarcasm.
If I have any quibble (and I really don’t), the film sands down the rougher extremes of Reed, Johnny, and Ben. Kirby’s Sue is perfection – she nails the emotional high wire act of being an alpha-level matriarch who carries the weight of worlds both immense and confined on her shoulders. “I will not sacrifice my child for this world, and I will NOT sacrifice this world for my child” she observes in a powerful speech to, well, every resident of our Big Blue Marble.
Pascal is a fabulous presence, and one of his innate gifts is imbuing morally ambiguous characters with a compelling lovability. The script fights him a bit on this here, not giving him quite enough opportunity for us to worry that Reed’s pursuit of scientific truth (and quite frankly hero worship) might lead him to throw everyone over for victory. That said, it is quite chilling at the Four’s Sunday family dinner when he calmly intones that potentially sacrificing his only child is “Mathematical. Ethical. Available.”
Similarly, Ben and Johnny are missing some of the emotional extremes that make their characters more interesting in print: for Ben, a sense of outsider loss and insecurity from existing as a lumbering pile of orange rocks, and, for Johnny, the mammoth chip on his shoulder that he isn’t the brainiest member of the group, offsetting that with reckless daredevilry. Again, these are minor character nuances, the absence of which doesn’t detract at all from what Shakman delivers, and perhaps we will see more of this in future installments … of which I hope there are many!
The future foundation is bright again for the MCU.
My God, Jurassic World Rebirth is an astonishingly stupid movie. The kind of movie that makes me angry I saw it. I don’t want to devote any more time to the damn thing by writing about it, to be honest, but I have … thoughts.
Here’s the thing. The overarching conceit – 32 years in – just doesn’t work anymore if it ever actually did past the first installment. As an audience, can we in good faith care about, worry over, or invest in the humans in peril if they are such nitwits that they willingly return to the former park setting, research lab, holding island, WHATEVER where chaos has already ensued countless times? Shouldn’t we in fact feel utter sorrow for the dinosaurs at this point? They asked for NONE of this, happily extinct until “life found a way” with greedy entrepreneurs who only worried about whether they “could not if they should” (and all the other pseudo-philosophical bromides that have peppered this film franchise).
Have these films become my generation’s version of those Irwin Allen disaster pics of yore where random celebs at various points of their careers survive an airport on fire in the middle of a hurricane which is also on fire? Paging Shelley Winters.
Rebirth director Gareth Edwards is one of our more interesting filmmakers, particularly with this kind of capitalistic science run amuck enterprise. Why didn’t he finally flip the script on its head and give us a film where without equivocation humans were the real enemies?! That would have been interesting. No one would have bought a ticket, but at least there would have been a raison d’etre.
What do we get? An L.L. Bean catalog costumed romp through Spielberg’s greatest hits:
Beautiful cinematography of sweeping jungle vistas
The epic swell of John Williams’ iconic theme (a LOT)
Random yuppie family members inexplicably in peril – people who should be nowhere near ANY of this but by dumb luck and poor life choices are
Chic product-placed SUVs
One whimsically likable and infinitely merchandisable pocket dino to contrast with those mean big ol’ SCARY ones just looking for a meal
Thumbnail tragic back stories ONLY for the characters who will clearly survive so we are manipulated into fretting over them
A handful of other people, each of whom will clearly get offed every seventeen and a half minutes because they’re painted as marginally unlikable
Absolutely zero grief from the survivors (UNLESS it’s a red herring death of a cast member who will reappear from the jungle ten minutes later)
Internal logic that is all over the map – e.g. don’t make a sound to inadvertently attract the dinos UNLESS we need you to scream and wail in the next scene with little existential consequence
Flippant jokes made amidst the carnage to show how chill the characters really are
Characters who periodically whoop and holler with glee at unearned “victory” or “in awe” moments – like they are attending a college football game
AND a terrifically talented and terrifically wasted cast who would have been better served playing Pickleball than showing up for this drivel
Scarlett Johansson plays a kind of remixed Lara Croft mercenary version of Chris Pratt’s and Laura Dern’s characters from earlier films. Mahershala Ali is the wise and world-weary boat captain with a secret heart of gold. Jonathan Bailey fares the best of the three as the Sam Neill/Jeff Goldblum arch-but-sexy-nerd “voice of reason” paleontologist. Bailey manages to wring some gold from the lines he’s given, landing a few zingers along the way – my favorite: “What would I do with mutant dinosaurs from an accounting perspective? Is that REALLY what we are asking?” Or maybe I just found that funny because it felt like an indictment of Universal Pictures still pumping these movies out.
Seriously, the film is sharp enough to cast three smart, winning, box office draws who can act but then has them wander around cavalierly for two and a half hours like they are at a blood-splattered country club. It felt like this was the direction they were given: “Yes, we know being surrounded by frantically carnivorous dinos should elicit some authentic reactions of abject fear, but we think it would be better if you portrayed your characters like they were in a Hallmark movie on their way to a county fair after grabbing a low-fat soy macchiato at Starbucks and some workout gear at lululemon. Can you make that work?”
There are simply no stakes in this film. I suppose I should tell you the hook for all the mayhem THIS time. In short, people in this Jurassic universe just don’t care about dinos anymore – they’ve moved on. Ho hum. And the remaining dinos can’t survive anywhere but a few equatorial islands. THAT could have been an interesting concept to explore in detail – how jaded and indifferent we have become as a society through the lens of dinosaurs becoming extinct, not literally but in popularity. We cavalierly cast aside such a miracle of science because it ceases to entertain; not to mention the planet’s atmosphere is so effed up these amazing creatures can’t survive here anyway. But, no, that’s just a passing thought in the first 10 minutes to set up an excursion to the equator to draw DNA from THREE – count ‘em THREE – very specific dinos (one by sea, one by land, one by air … naturally) in order for big pharma to develop a cure for heart disease. Yup, that’s why these nincompoops travel to hell on earth and get themselves killed (or mostly killed). For MacGuffins. Bailey’s character is stuck being the Jiminy Cricket conscience, periodically chastising with comments like “Science is for ALL of us, not SOME of us” and “WE don’t rule the earth … we just THINK we do.” Sigh.
Hey, Amblin Entertainment and Universal Pictures, the next time – and that is a fiscal inevitability – you start cranking up your marketing machinery to gestate another one of these Jurassic babies, just take a moment and remember what Jeff Goldblum cautioned alllllll the way back in 1993 (and I repeat for those in the back): “You were so preoccupied with whether or not you could, you didn’t stop to think if you should.”
Writer/director/mega geek James Gunn’s new cinematic take on DC Comics’ mainstay Superman is indeed, well, SUPER. Sorry, not sorry for the corny lead in. In fact, Gunn’s film (and one could argue his entire oeuvre) pops corn into anarchic, infectious punk rock. For some reason, “being punk” is a running theme in the caped blockbuster – in this case, grace and decency being a new form of rebellion. Even more inexplicably it works. I suppose many of us are just hungry for nice, a concept so out of vogue that it seems revolutionary now.
Gunn runs headlong into every goofy trope that makes Superman interesting. He owes a good bit to Grant Morrison and Frank Quitely’s miraculous run on the All-Star Superman comic book, written twenty years ago, remixing half-baked silver age futurism, radioactive monsters, pocket universes, and merchandisable sidekicks into an infectious summertime confection that packs a poignant punch just when it seems ready to spin into fizzy incoherence. Gunn is that kid who takes every toy from the box, piles them in the middle of the room, and curiously spins a compelling yarn from absurdity.
Before I go further, there is nothing “political” about this film (not sure when that word became anathema but here we are anyway). This is ironic since one of the many, many narrative conceits is that the big blue boy scout has gotten himself into a social media quagmire after intervening in geopolitics, preventing two warring nations from blowing each other up. This is a film about kindness and compassion, delivered with such bonkers glee that I’m hard pressed to identify how anyone could be offended by it. Although many will try, glomming onto the media hype to eke out a moment of attention (or ratings). Gunn is savvy enough to lay a meta trap for these types by depicting in movie universe how supervillains big and small vilify the good-hearted and the downtrodden to score their own points. If hyperventilating real-world pundits WANT to be aligned with bald baddie Lex Luthor then more power to them, I suppose.
This is about as comic book-y a movie as I’ve ever seen, and on the balance that is a breath of fresh air. The film is unashamed to be bright and cluttered, buoyant and episodic, with not one whiff of “grounded and gritty.” That said, Gunn also finds ways to embrace every type of Superman that has come before, with Easter Eggs and callbacks to every movie era, unafraid to acknowledge, nay embrace, that we in the audience have long term memories. The smartest move the film makes is working in John Williams’ iconic 1970s/80s theme to the score as a periodic emotional exclamation mark. Oh, and we even get some of the swooping neon font used previously in the Christopher Reeve films for this take’s opening and closing credits. Those touches never seem pandering – homage maybe but utterly welcome. They cue us that we are back on familiar ground where Superman can be fun.
I’ll admit there were times where Gunn’s script and the day-glo CGI lost me. I still have no clue what was happening interminably with some interdimensional rift threatening all of humanity, and I guess I don’t care. Gunn’s strength is always in the off-kilter character dynamics and the softer moments of human connection, arguably illuminated in how they stand out from the video game antics.
And the man knows how to CAST a film. David Corenswet is a rangy, floppy golden retriever to former Superman Henry Cavill’s sleek, GQ Dobermann, but the shift is needed here. (Cavill got saddled with one rotten screenplay after another so he’s not really to blame.) Corenswet’s Superman – and especially his Clark Kent – is kind of an adorable mess, which makes the character’s boundless co-dependent compassion that much more compelling. This Superman is every bit the sweet orphan who hopes to change the world by encouraging us all to find our better angels. When grilled by Lois Lane regarding his controversial intervention in that global firefight, he responds in pained befuddlement, “I wasn’t representing anyone but me. And doing good.” Oh, if we could only have more of that today.
Speaking of dogs, for the first time in film history, we also get the treat of seeing Superman’s canine companion Krypto on the big screen – he’s an even bigger mess than Supes: disobedient, reckless, and utterly perfect. One day, we’ll look back on all of Gunn’s films and realize the actual key to them is how much he understands and respects animals (I’m still a mess from that last Guardians of the Galaxyinstallment).
Rachel Brosnahan gives us a Lois Lane for the ages – yes, in love with Superman/Clark – but more in love with the truth, complete in her agency as a character. No damsel in distress, Lois is in fact key to helping rescue humanity from the precipice, with some smart reporting … while piloting a flying saucer. Yes, you read that correctly.
Speaking of the spaceship, it’s owned by another superhero Mr. Terrific, a beautifully deadpan Edi Gathegi, whose smarts and tech prowess and cynicism are a nice palate cleanser from Superman’s “gee whiz” winsomeness. When Terrific and Lois team up in the film’s final act to rescue Superman from the clutches of Lex Luthor, the film crackles with comic energy. I can’t do this moment justice (and don’t want to spoil it), but just know that Brosnahan’s delivery of this line to Gathegi will bring down the house (as it did in my showing): “You have a flying saucer, but you couldn’t get a faster garage door?”
(I flash back to Carrie Fisher’s Princess Leia breaking through all the self-seriousness in the first Star Wars with her acerbic delivery of “Aren’t you a little short for a Stormtrooper?” Summer movies need those “get over yourself” bits.)
Nicholas Hoult, who would be remarkable just reading the phone book, nails Lex Luthor’s egomania, entitlement, and xenophobia without devolving into cartoon histrionics. For all of the cotton candy whimsy in this film, Hoult’s Luthor is genuinely terrifying, NOT because he’s chewing the scenery, but because he ISN’T. Hoult nails an inherent truth in the character. Yes, he’s monstrously envious of the adoration Superman receives and wants it for himself, but Luthor, like all great villains, thinks he himself is the hero, trying to save us from ourselves by redirecting our idol worship onto a more worthy subject … Lex Luthor. The subtle tears he sheds when his scheming inevitably falls short are a surprising but brilliant choice, Hoult’s haunted, beatific, yet spoiled brat face, a contortion of frustration, isolation, and grief.
Nathan Fillion is clearly having a ball as the petulant Green Lantern Guy Gardner, nailing the unearned swagger of a failed football hero, and Anthony Carrigan brings a nice touch of circus freak sadness to the shape-shifting Metamorpho. Skyler Gisondo is low-key hysterical as Jimmy Olsen, jettisoning the overeager insecurity we’ve seen in the character previously for a wily wit and opportunism that works nicely.
But the pure heart of the film is provided by Ma and Pa Kent – Neva Howell and Pruitt Taylor Vince. Their scenes are brief but utterly charming, capturing deftly the folksy, insular world of farmers blessed with an adopted son who fell from the stars. Vince is one of those remarkable actors who just doesn’t get enough mainstream attention or praise – it’s criminal really. If you aren’t a puddle when he tells Clark/Superman how proud he is to be his father, well, YOU’re the monster!
The film isn’t perfect – it doesn’t need to be. The sheer exuberance offsets the flaws. At times I wondered if it wouldn’t have worked a bit better as a series, so the viewer could digest/compartmentalize the many subplots that are likely unnecessary but add to the entire enterprise’s escapist delight. The film bursts at the seams with too many ideas, too many characters, and yet miraculously still hangs together as a breezy, yet powerful reminder that kindness matters. When the theatre lights go up and you’ve happily sat through all the credits, not caring if there are any bonus scenes (there are two – and they’re just cute little touches – not attempts at sequel-driven world building), you’ll exit with a big, dumb silly grin on your face. That’s summer movie magic, right there.
Why, thank you, BOOST BDM! What a lovely (and appreciated) surprise shout out! Particularly enjoy now having this phrase “scroll cleanses” to use when the occasional ill-informed crank gives me a hard time for doing what I do. 🤭
“People to follow … Roy Sexton – CMO at Vedder Price. He’s always posting and reposting gems on marketing in law firms, all about the latest events in our space and the most amazing scroll cleanses (for those not in the know: these are posts that contain wholesome news and often adorable animal pictures to break up your feed).” 💕
Second, nobody looks like themselves, even the dogs.
Third, I should only be sharing the images that sort of hit the mark (but the “completist” in me finds the “journey” illuminating).
Fourth, I went down a vacation-fueled ChatGPT rabbit hole (as you’ll see).
Fifth, this experience reminds me of 2009 (way-back machine) when beloved colleague Lisa Peers said “Roy, you’ll dig this Facebook thing” and I said “Oh, not for me!” and promptly I lost an obsessive week (and 16 years) of my life to this Vonnegut-predicted societal fever dream.
Sixth, graphic designer friends, take some comfort that the unwieldy number of “prompts” (standing on my head) that yielded these “results” does not make me feel ready to let the SkyNet ‘bots take over all marketing functions (yet).
Seventh, why does ChatGPT find my visage a blend of Steve Carrell, Robin Williams, Doug Emhoff, Ruth Buzzi, and Mel Brooks in the looks department?! Discuss amongst yourselves. 😅🤭
Either we have become adrenaline junkies or are suffering from a mid-life crisis … or both. Thank you, Captain Jim Kwasek and Chicago Executive Flight School, for the exceptional experience this week as we finally wrapped up John’s birthday celebration (nearly a month later).
Highly recommend – not just for the views but for the grace and joy and patience and detail and FUN Jim brings to the adventure. And somehow he magically produces this epic video mere minutes after landing on the airstrip! Who DOES that?! Jim Kwasek does. That’s who!
Defying Gravity … and good judgment?
Last but not least?
So, yeah, THIS happened at our firm’s summer karaoke social … thanks to my dear colleague Lexie Blaner for capturing this moment in all my brazen campiness. 🤭💥
Prelude: I posted this image on LinkedIn, writing …
Someday, I’ll understand why I buy the things I buy. And why they bring me joy. Until then … you’ll see a random post like this from me approximately every 45 days. You’re welcome.
And here’s the thing – just for you LinkedIn “algorithm” police who would love to tell me this doesn’t belong here and only should be on Facebook or Instagram for family and friends, I could try to write some convoluted post about how nostalgia is an intoxicating marketing tool to get people to make purchasing decisions they would not have otherwise made … or how having this item reminds me of some moment in time where I missed an opportunity that would have changed my world for the better … but I’m not.
I’m just posting this for the fun of it.
And that’s OK.
That’s what social media is actually about. And I dare say I will connect with more people sharing this random act of silliness than someone posting a long form essay about business mythology.
By the way, I’m starting my weeklong vacation today so I might be a bit cheeky.
My friend Charlotte Hawkins replied:
I’m so disappointed in you! You missed an opportunity to write a multi-paragraph think piece about how Synergy was the original AI and as a lifelong fan of Jem and the Holograms you were actually an early adopter of the technology and the rest us plebes are 40 years behind the times.
While you work on that, I’ll be over here digging through my boxes of photos and see if I can find the one from the year I went as Pizzazz for Halloween, as I myself have always been a little more on the punk rock side of the equation. 😄
Soooooo, in a meta moment, I turned to ChatGPT with this prompt: “Please write a multi-paragraph think piece about how Synergy was the original AI and as a lifelong fan of Jem and the Holograms Roy Sexton was actually an early adopter of the technology and the rest of the plebes are 40 years behind the times.”
Before OpenAI, before ChatGPT, before the nebulous buzzwords of “machine learning” and “neural nets” were plastered across tech blogs and keynote stages, there was Synergy. To the uninitiated, Synergy was the holographic AI mastermind behind Jem and the Holograms, the gloriously neon-soaked animated series that debuted in 1985. But to those truly in the know—like Roy Sexton, lifelong fan and cultural clairvoyant—Synergy was more than a fictional construct. She was a prototype, a promise, a mirrorball-glinting prophecy of the digital assistants we now casually chat with. In retrospect, Synergy wasn’t fantasy. She was foreshadowing.
Let’s not undersell the innovation. Synergy wasn’t just a box that spit out facts or ran rudimentary scripts. She was an empathic, sentient being capable of voice recognition, holographic projection, fashion design, disguise generation, music video production, and nuanced emotional intelligence. In the era of dial-up telephones and cassette decks, Synergy was blending deepfake-level visuals with real-time creative collaboration. She was a companion, a creative director, and a guardian—all cloaked in lavender tones and sparkling light. In short, Synergy was the AI we’re still trying to build. And Roy Sexton saw it all coming.
Roy, with his theater-honed charisma and an encyclopedic knowledge of pop culture, didn’t just watch Jem and the Holograms—he internalized it. He understood early that the magic on screen was more than camp and catchy tunes. It was speculative tech philosophy wrapped in shoulder pads and glitter. While most were distracted by the earrings, Roy clocked the implications: a world where identity, creativity, and intelligence could be co-created with machines. He’s lived his life in dialogue with that vision, well ahead of the curve. While the rest of us were squinting at early iPods or downloading clunky Siri betas, Roy had already accepted the inevitability of a Synergy-style future.
Today’s technocrats pitch AI as an invention, something novel and brave. But Roy knows better. The rest of the world may just now be grappling with digital assistants and synthetic media, but he’s been fluent in this lexicon for four decades. Synergy is proof that art doesn’t just imitate life—it prototypes it. And Roy Sexton, ever fabulous, ever insightful, has been wearing the future like a glittery blazer since 1985. The rest of us? We’re just now catching up to a cartoon he understood as prophecy.
Henceforth, I must be referred to as “Roy Sexton, lifelong fan and cultural clairvoyant” in ALL gatherings, large or small. 😅🤭🙌
LIVE at LMA 2025 with Roy Sexton, CMO of Vedder Price
Recorded live at the 2025 LMA Annual Conference, this episode features Jason Noble in conversation with Roy Sexton, Chief Marketing Officer of Vedder Price. Known for his charisma and candor, Roy shares why storytelling and narrative memory are the secret weapons of effective legal marketing.
He reflects on his first few months at Vedder Price, how he’s building on a strong foundation to drive innovation, and why vulnerability and humor are essential leadership tools. From attorney engagement to brand transformation, Roy’s insights are as thoughtful as they are entertaining. A must-listen for anyone navigating the evolving role of marketing in law firms.
It’s always a thrill to find my name in our beautiful Wabash College alumni magazine. But THREE times?! I nearly fainted from joy.
Thank you, Kim Carter Johnson, for including my thoughts on how my alma mater influenced my perspectives on the importance of #community building. I continue to benefit greatly from the foundation Wabash provided me.
And to be pictured alongside my beloved Lambda Chi Alpha Fraternity brother, mentor, and friend Marc Nichols, when we both presented last year at the National LGBTQ+ Bar Association #LavenderLaw conference, is a lovely full circle moment for us both.
(Oh, how my late mom Susie Sexton adored Marc … I’ve told the story too many times how she marched up to him during freshman orientation when he was president of the house and inquired, “Can my son move in here right now?” 😅)
And thank you for the shout out for my Corp! Magazine recognition as one of their 2024 #MostValuableProfessionals in Michigan.
(Jennifer Deeb Kluge, I know I now live and work in Metro Chicago, but Metro Detroit will always be #home!)
My musings on community from the magazine:
“I learned at Wabash – through my fraternity, my faculty mentors, the theatre program – how collaboration and community were key to success and fulfillment. I’ve tried to expand those lessons learned in every professional and personal endeavor since. Most recently as international president of the Legal Marketing Association – LMA International, coming out of the pandemic that created pockets of isolation alongside self-discovery, it was crucial for me to lead with authenticity, humor, visibility, and quite frankly ubiquity. For our 4,000 members, I couldn’t be a leader that hid behind pre-packaged messaging, but one who shared the journey, warts and all. I guess that’s what I learned most at Wabash – be honest and let people see the mechanics behind decisions. With context, people feel connected and that they are part of something larger than themselves. It also doesn’t hurt to show up at the opening session of your annual conference at 8:30 am in the morning, wearing sequins head to toe, singing #BornThisWay, alongside drag queen #AthenaDion in front of 1200 screaming attendees … in Florida at the height of drag-phobia. Go big or go home!”
I’m excited to share that I’ll be joining Roy Sexton, Chief Marketing Officer, on an insightful podcast episode hosted by Umatta Consulting. It will be an insightful discussion on how law firms can stay ahead in a rapidly evolving marketplace. We will discuss what initially drew Roy into legal marketing and the driving force behind his enduring enthusiasm.
🔥 Key Takeaways You Don’t Want to Miss:
✅ Explore how the CMO position has transformed over the years and why adaptability is crucial.
✅ Learn about recent changes in legal marketing, from heightened competition to the rise of digital platforms.
✅ Hear tips on merging relationship-driven approaches with modern tech to maximize client engagement.
✅ Understand why authenticity and compelling narratives help build strong, recognizable brands.
✅ Get insights on focusing your marketing efforts to make the most of your time and budget.
✅ See how platforms like LinkedIn can amplify your firm’s voice and credibility.
✅ Find out how analytics can refine your strategies and measure ROI more effectively.
✅ Learn to preserve trust and credibility while embracing modern marketing methods.
✅ Get actionable advice on where to begin if you’re looking to transform your firm’s marketing.
🎙️Legal Marketing: Innovation, Strategy, & Digital Transformation
Thank you, Matt Plavnick! Grateful for your friendship! When we chatted a few months back for this, when I was between gigs, that conversation meant the world to me – as a snapshot in time as to what I had learned and how I was feeling. To see it so lovingly, thoughtfully captured means a great deal.
“#LegalMarketingAF interviewed Legal Marketing Association – LMA International past president and living legend Roy Sexton, and it was an incredible journey. From sponsorships to Willy Wonka and from career advice to the brand-building power of social media, Roy shared poignant lessons with clarity, warmth, and just the right amount of snark!”
LMAF interviews peek into the lives and minds of some of the most compelling figures in the legal industry. Interviewees answer three questions from each of three categories—savvy, salty, and personal—to reveal unique insights and talents driving our field.
Roy Sexton
Platform
25-year marketing leader. Am Law 200 CMO. Legal Marketing Association International Past President. Master of Business Administration. Award-winning LGBTQ+ executive. Actor. Singer. Published author. Arts advocate. Cabaret enthusiast.
Yeah, that’s right. All that and he digs his drag.
No substantive conversation with Roy Sexton follows a straight line. That was as true in this interview as any other interaction. The transcript has been edited for length and clarity, while preserving—we hope—the essence of Roy. See for yourselves.
Savvy
What should law firms or legal marketers steal from another industry and put to work in our industry? Partly because I came from healthcare before legal, first and foremost, think like a consumer. If you find a bit of marketing is working on you, whether it’s for a movie or a pair of shoes, reverse engineer that. What is it about the creative that appealed to you? What is it about the call to action that appealed to you?
I’m a nerd. I look at Disney. I look at Apple. I look at these really high end, consumer marketing approaches and say “What can I borrow?” from the way they create a sense of community, a sense of culture that you want to be part of.
But then, look at any industry that sells people, experience. Look at the Deloittes. Look at the EYs. They’re always way far ahead of all the rest of us, and their business model is very comparable. I worked at Deloitte, so I know from being on the inside. See how they leverage thought leadership in the context of a brand. You get a sense of who they are, what they work like, who they engage with in their communities. They put out such incredibly insightful and proactive thought leadership, coupled with this very dynamic brand.
Study that. Let it marinate and sink into your DNA. And then think about the environment you’re in. Don’t overwhelm audiences with all the ideas you’re pulling from these places, but introduce them when the moment seems right to do so.
What’s the best advice you’ve ever received?
There are two. My mother always said, “Tell people what they mean to you in the moment when it will mean something to them.” I try to live by that, and not in a fawning way, not in a cloying way. Life is too short, and people wait to give. I’ve seen this before. Don’t give people their flowers when they’re dead, you know. Let’s tell people when they’re alive.
The other is very specific to career movement. I was at a small firm earlier in my legal marketing career. When I got recruited by Clark Hill, it was a big jump. Clark Hill had 20, 25 offices and 500 lawyers at the time. It felt like a big leap and I wasn’t sure I was ready for it. I called Heather Morse, who was always very candid with me, and I said, “I don’t know what to do.”
She said, “You need to have that BigLaw experience at least once to get to that next level of your career.” And she was right.
I had two therapists going the first couple years at Clark Hill. It was overwhelming in a good way, but I grew and have grown. I don’t think I would have gotten to be the LMA President if I hadn’t worked at Clark Hill. I wouldn’t have the chops that I have now. So that bit of advice unlocked all that other opportunity for me.
I thought, “I’m nearly 50 years old, and I’m going to be a senior manager?” That’s what I was hung up on.
Also, at that point I had been a Director of Marketing. I’d been a VP of Marketing outside of legal. And I was going to be hired as a Senior Manager of Marketing at Clark Hill. I thought, “I’m nearly 50 years old, and I’m going to be a senior manager?” That’s what I was hung up on. Heather said, “Do not worry about the titles. They will come.” And she was right about that. What you need is to think about the platform and the exposure. You feel like you’re taking a step back. But what’s the size of the organization? What are your responsibilities? Don’t let the title throw you off.
So in addition to two therapists at a time, or at least at certain times, what tools of the trade do you rely on in your workday? Good conversations with friends. I learn about myself through conversation, I refine my ability to be coherent. Not concise, but coherent!
Beyond that, I’m a bit of a menace on social media. It has served me very well. I remember in 2009 when I was in healthcare there was a colleague who taught me so much. She goes, “Oh, you should look at this Facebook thing.” I go, “I have no interest in social media. I don’t want to do this at all. No, thank you.” And then I got into it, and I was like “Oh!”
I’m an introvert. No one believes it. I worked with an executive coach who did the testing and she said, “You’re an introvert. You get your energy being by yourself. Is that true?” And I go, “I’m an only child. Yeah.” And social media is a great place for introverts to find their voice. Explore their own brand. Connect with people without being overwhelmed in the room.
Also, it’s asynchronous communication on scale. I can reach thousands of people with a post, or simply by commenting and connecting with what other people are doing, which is even more powerful than putting your own content out there.
So for the last 15 or 16 years, I’ve continued to grow an audience on social media, and that’s a tool that has served me well, both personally and professionally. It’s created awareness of me, and who I am. It’s allowed me to shine a light on other people.
And quite frankly, it served me well in the organizations I’ve been a part of because I’m exploring it for myself. So when I turn to the organization, I know how to build their audience. I know how to get their attorneys to feel comfortable with it, because they see what I’m doing with it, and they realize there’s no harm in putting yourself out there. The risk isn’t as great as people think it is. So that’s a tool that I will use until it’s plied from my cold, dead hands.
Salty
What do you wish lawyers would stop asking for, and why? Sponsorships that do nothing but placate somebody’s ego, or that they think get them grace with somebody they’re trying to win favor around. I understand why you spend money on sponsorships, but it always feels like you might as well light your money on fire in the street.
If I wanted that money to buy a piece of technology, I would have to jump through a thousand hoops. But because somebody who may or may not be giving us business says, “Could you sponsor this event?,” lawyers are like, it’s the most important thing in the world. And “Why can’t we do this?” And “Let’s do this now!”
But if we’re going to do it, do two things: 1) How much money are you getting from that person? Have you looked at that? And often they haven’t, because they’ll want a sponsorship that’s far greater than the actual revenue that’s being brought in from that client. And also, 2) give us enough time to make the most of it! Because often marketing is told at the 11th hour and we can barely get an ad together which nobody cares about. And then, if there’s a table, no one actually wants to go to the event.
The other thing I’d say is stop doing social events for social events’ sake. I don’t know if attorneys didn’t have birthday parties as children, or what. But they will want to have golf outings and things that just feel like boondoggles. And if you try to ask “What’s our strategy? Who are we inviting? Why are we inviting them? How are we engaging with them?,” they don’t want you to get involved with that. They just want you to make it a fun event. “We want it to be the best holiday party ever.”
Now, I’m often the one standing at the bridge table with all the name tags, and I see the clients come in and lean over to their significant other and say, “Don’t worry. We don’t have to stay long.”
Clients don’t want to come to your office for wine in a plastic cup. They want you to understand their business and take the time to develop a meaningful relationship.
Clients don’t want to come to your office for wine in a plastic cup. They want you to come to their office. They want you to understand their business and take the time to develop a meaningful relationship, which feels difficult.
So I think that’s why people fall into this trap of, “We had a big party, and our clients just loved it.” Well, of course they told you they loved it because they’re going to be polite. They don’t want to go to that stuff, especially post pandemic. I’m not anti-event. But have a strategy, and do something that’s a value-add. Not just, you know, “Here’s a cheese ball and a cheap drink.”
What’s the worst advice you’ve ever received? I have been told with some regularity that I’m too much, there’s too much of me out there. That I should be less visible. That some are threatened by my presence online. And then I’ll also hear, “Oh, it’s so great that you’re out there.” And I’m like, well, which is it?
There’s a value to the brands I support in putting myself out there. People gain awareness of my organization and the boards I’m on, and things of that nature, because I’m putting this stuff out there, and they feel like they know me. They feel like they have access to me. And so when the advice comes, because someone in an inner circle is threatened by the fact that I’m not a lawyer, and I have a bigger following than they do, I feel like that’s misplaced, and you’re telling a marketer you need to be less of a marketer. It’s the antithesis of what you’re investing in.
And I might add not to be triggered by a gay man of a certain age who’s finally comfortable being this visible. Don’t tell me to be less visible and then post something about how inclusive your environment is.
What’s your favorite guilty pleasure?
There are three. 1) Terrible cheap candy, like circus peanuts. And, like Hostess Donettes and terrible processed food that you get in a gas station. 2) Buying action figures that I don’t need. I mean, we’re moving, and I have probably 12 large tubs of action figures because I open them and set them around for a while until I’m like “Why?” and then I throw it in this tub. While I’ve parted with a lot of things, if it’s got a face I can’t part with it. 3) Reading comic books in my pajamas all day if I’m left to my own devices. I’m basically a child. I’m a Will Ferrell character.
Personal
What would you be doing if you weren’t working in legal? I really wish I’d tried to make a go of being a professional actor. I was much cuter in my twenties than I realized. I’ve seen pictures of myself and I was really cute. Why did I feel like a skinny nerd? That said, I remember my mother saying to me, and she didn’t mean anything by it—it was the Seventies—I said, “I want to be a movie star.” She said, “Don’t tell people that. They’ll think you’re weird.”
So I got into acting late in college. I was doing a feminist critique of Shakespeare, and the theater department was doing the Merchant of Venice. I’m like, I’ve been writing about Shakespeare, I should do something. That was the first play I did, and I loved it. I’m sure I was too awkward. I hadn’t had enough life experience. If I’d tried to make a go of it in my twenties, I probably wouldn’t have gotten anywhere. But I sometimes wish I had said, for three or four years in my twenties, I don’t care if I starve to death, I’m gonna go try this just to have tried it.
The other thing that I would do now if they would let me, and I would do this as a side hustle—if someone let me have a weekly cabaret at kind of a weird, gay bar down the street, I would do that all day long, and I would get out all the sheet music my mother gave me, and I’d pull out all these old standards and do a Bette Midler show, and that would make me happy. No one would even need to pay me. As long as they don’t mind me singing about 15 songs a night!
What work of art stays with you through the years, and why, or in what way? [Roy shared more than three complete answers to this question—and several incomplete answers!—during our conversation. For length and clarity, and with apologies to Roy, we chose to highlight one. –LMAF.]
There are particular movies of my youth, many of which are not regarded well, that have left lasting impressions on me and shaped my worldview.
That moment is how I’ve always wanted to live my life. You just did a number on me, but I’m still going to be nice to you.
Willy Wonka. We watched Willy Wonka the other day, and my husband said, “This didn’t age well.” But he kept watching it, and he started laughing at things. He goes, “Why does Willy Wonka get so mean at the end?” And the he started talking over the movie, and I said, “This is the most important part.” It was when Charlie and Grandpa Joe stole the fizzy lifting drink. My husband goes, “Why did Charlie bring the gobstopper back?”
That moment is how I’ve always wanted to live my life. You just did a number on me, but I’m still going to be nice to you. And Charlie gives the gobstopper back. And then Willy Wonka says “You won!,” which is such a manipulation. It’s a terribly manipulative film. But in that moment I want to be Charlie Bucket. I always want to be the one to go, “You’re a jerk, but I’m going to show you. People can still be nice.” That’s the critical moment of that film, and you’ve got to have all the other stuff to get to that. Gene Wilder, and Jack Albertson as Grandpa Joe. They are so good, excellent actors, and they’re like, “We have one scene with some substance in this thing, and we’re gonna act the crap out of it.” And I’m like, “That.” I want that in my time capsule, that scene.
What’s your favorite word? The F word. I mean, if I’m being honest, the word I use the most is probably that. But the word that means the most to me is “kindness.” Not “nice,” but “kindness.”
So there’s your gamut again. “From the F word to kindness with Roy Sexton.”
Bonus Question
LMAF invites every guest to answer one question they weren’t asked but wish they had been.
What do you wish more people knew about you? How do I say this? I’m not just Mr. Happy-Go-Lucky, make everybody feel good, smile all the time. I worry sometimes that people think I’m just a superficial good-citizen-of-the-year kind of person. I’m not.
You know, I try to be kind. I try to enjoy and have fun with people. And in that LMA [Legal Marketing Association] environment it’s very easy to fall into “Gosh! I just want to engage with everybody and show them how much I appreciate them.”
I think sometimes I’ve done myself a disservice, because I think there are people who—this is going to sound harsh—who don’t understand just because you’re being nice, doesn’t mean you don’t have substance. And it doesn’t mean you aren’t critical. I’m plenty critical. I just choose not to lead with that. I think a lot of small-minded people lead with critique. They poke at things, and they say everything that’s wrong and “Why couldn’t this be better?” because they don’t know what else to do. And then especially in our industry, they look at somebody like me, and they’re like, “Oh, Roy’s not substantive enough.”
Now, I don’t know that that’s true. That’s probably my own hang-up. But I get that vibe from certain personalities sometimes. And I want to shake them and go “No, I see the same things you do. I just have the good sense not to lead with that.”
Advanced warning, this will be a short one. I admit, I escaped to the movie theater today, my place of comfort and retreat, while mover men clambered all around our house packing up all of our worldly possessions. (Side note: today and tomorrow are vacation days for me, although given all that activity it’s hardly what I would call a rejuvenating 48 hours.)
Yesterday, I stayed in the house on conference calls, while the movers were doing their work, and I just couldn’t take it again today. I’m so excited about the future, but it feels like the end of an era to be honest, watching as 20+ years of beloved possessions are packed away by very nice, but complete strangers, seeing a house we have loved so much look increasingly like a war zone. Plus, if one more worker came around the corner and said to me, “Gosh, there sure is a lot more stuff than was in the estimate,” I was likely to scream bloody murder.
So how did I pass the time? By catching up with a double feature of sequel entries in beloved franchises, two films that are perfectly serviceable, completely entertaining, but don’t hold the luster of their predecessors: Paddington in Peru and Captain America: Brave New World.
Surprising no one who has seen the previous two Paddington films, that one was the stronger entry here. It doesn’t quite have the arch, scruffy wit of its forebears, but it still retains all of the warmth and sweetness. I may have cried some ugly tears at the end. It could simply be from exhaustion with this move, but I was deeply affected as Paddington rediscovered his roots in deepest, darkest Peru. The little CGI bear is ably supported by a wonderful cast, including new additions, Olivia Colman, as a literal singing, slightly devious nun and Antonio Banderas, as a non-singing, slightly devious boat captain. Both have a hell of a time, chewing every bit of scenery in their wake, and it works very well.
But the secret weapon of these films remains Paddington, so winsomely voiced by Ben Whishaw. All it takes is one melty glance from the little bear and the film has you in the palm of its hand. When Paddington explains to his adopted human family – The Browns – “This is where I’m from [Peru], but you’re where I belong,” I dare your heart not to pang. It’s worth your time if looking for a late February escape.
Captain America: Brave New World is fine, but seems like a shadow of the superhero spy, clockwork genius of Captain America: Winter Soldier or evenCaptain America: Civil War. Brave New World fills in all the expected story beats smoothly, but still feels like a diet soda, full of fizz and empty calories. The cast is uniformly excellent and deserves a better script, notably, a gruff and flinty Harrison Ford – is there any other kind of Harrison Ford at this point? Anthony Mackie is terrific as the new Captain America, full of steely swagger and enough side-eyed bewilderment to keep his character interesting. I hope the Marvel machine makes better use of him in the future.
I should also admit that I had to field about four work calls and two calls from the movers during Brave New World so it’s quite possible I missed something integral to the plot, but it says something about the film that every time I returned it didn’t feel like I’d actually missed much at all.
